The Lone Wolf #3: Boston Avenger

The Lone Wolf #3: Boston Avenger, by Mike Barry

October, 1973  Berkley Medallion Books

Opening 36 hours after the previous volume, this third installment of The Lone Wolf finds our deranged hero Burt Wulff in Boston, having driven here nonstop after the apocaylptic climax of the previous book. Wulff’s got a suitcase with a “quarter million dollars of junk” in the backseat, and he’s brought it here to Boston because this is where he’s learned the heroin was destined to be shipped before he intercepted it. But promptly the heroin will be intercepted from him, and Wulff will spend a large portion of the narrative trying to get it back. Meanwhile we readers will learn that it’s nearly impossible to sell this particular case of heroin, as it travels like a narcotic version of The Monkey’s Paw from one ill-fated character to another. 

The title phrase is never mentioned in the novel, but we’ll recall that Wulff’s girl in the previous book referred to Wulff as “Avenger,” so I’m assuming Boston Avenger is a play on that. Or it’s a total coincidence. Because the girl isn’t even mentioned and only thought of in passing. Rather, Wulff spends a large portion of Boston Avenger, which occurs over just two days, trying to get his mojo back. While he kicked some serious ass in the previous two books, this time he’s often caught unawares, and basically has to give himself a pep talk to get back into the action. (“He was the Wolf again, and he was in the game to win.”) 

First though a behind-the-scenes note: I’ve since read “Some Notes On The Lone Wolf,” an essay included in Malzberg’s 1990 anthology Breakfast In The Ruins. In this pithy, entertaining piece Malzberg (aka “Mike Barry”) answers a question I’ve had: why Wulff’s name sometimes changes to “Conlan.” This is because Wulff’s original name was “Wulff Conlan,” and this is how Malzberg referred to the character in this first three novels, which he wrote within the span of a few weeks. However with the third volume, ie this one, he got a request from his agent to temporarily halt on the project, even though he’d been hired “to produce 10 books within less than a year.” 

For one, the character’s name would have to change: the last name of the series’s publisher happened to be Conlan, something Malzberg states he was unaware of. Also, Berkley wasn’t thrilled with how Wulff Conlan’s victims “were real people with real viewpoints who seemed to undergo real pain when they were killed, which was quite frequently.” But then Malzberg got the go-ahead to continue and write the fourth volume, only he’d need to start referring to the character as Burt Wulff, not Wulff Conlan. The Berkley copyeditors did a better job of correcting Malzberg’s manuscript this time than last; there’s only one “Conlan” slip, on page 49. Malzberg in his 1990 essay regrets that the temporary halt took a bit of the wind out of his sails, but notes that he was able to push on – and even turn in a few additional volumes outside of the original contract. The short piece, while humorous, is really more concerned with Malzberg’s satisfaction with himself that he was able to turn something out so quickly, despite having no background in the genre; he states that for research he read The Executioner #7, which he found to be “pretty bad, mechanical, and lifeless.” (I actually rank that seventh Bolan novel as one of my favorites yet in the series!) 

But even if Malzberg did rush through the series, he was still a quality writer, and it’s my belief that the talent of a quality writer will be evident even in a rushed work. This to me is most demonstrated through the understated theme that runs through Boston Avenger: the theme of control. Whether intentionally or not, Malzberg in this volume spins a thematic thread that Wulff and the Boston mobsters he is up against are constantly striving for self-control. Malzberg doesn’t bash us over the head with it, either; but it’s there if you look for it. Those who lose control die, of course, this being an action-centered genre. And Wulff must learn to regain control of his “wolf” instincts to “win the game.” 

He doesn’t have it at the start, though. Wulff, after barreling cross-country with the heroin, loses the case mere seconds after arriving in Boston. He pulls into a toll both and it turns out to be a mob trap. Again, Wulff’s enemies always surround and outmaneuver him. But Malzberg does himself a disservice here, because Wulff is caught cold and only saved from death through happenstance: a motorist pulls up behind him, despite it being so early in the morning, and starts honking his horn. So the two thugs just take off with the case, unwilling to kill Wulff in front of witnesses: “That’s not in the contract.”  Wulff will spend the rest of the novel fighting to get it back. 

Malzberg again opens up the narrative by focusing on one-off characters, but whereas this comes off like padding in other series novels, here it’s actually entertaining. No doubt because, per the publisher’s complaints, these characters come off like “real people” who feel “real pain.” Actually you could take Wulff out of the equation and Boston Avenger would be like the average crime novel of the day. The plot focuses on that case of heroin and the various members of the Boston underworld who try to acquire it and sell its contents. But then, The Lone Wolf is like The Liquidator in that it comes off more like a crime series than a men’s adventure series, heavier on vibe than on action setpieces like in The Executioner and such. Also like The Liquidator, it captures the feel of the era, and would be highly recommended for anyone who enjoys ‘70s crime fiction (which in my opinion was the best era for crime novels and movies). 

The two thugs who took Wulff’s case, Paul and Mac, are two of the one-off characters who comrpise a lot of the narrative. They work for Boston mob boss Cicchini, who wants the heroin and wants Wulff dead. Instead, these two decide to make off with the heroin on their own and sell it. This brings us to the one-off character who will take up the most of the narrative: Sands, an assistant professor at Harvard who happens to be “the biggest pusher on the East Coast.” As Marty McKee notes, Malzberg does page-fill a bit with Sands and his wife, but at the same time Malzberg’s writing is so enjoyable that I didn’t mind it. Regardless, we get a lot on how Sands, a college prof in his 30s who married one of his students, has fallen out of love with the girl and how she’s always threatening to leave him. This particular subplot leads to a crazed payoff that packs even more of a punch in our #metoo era, when Sands beats the living shit out of his wife when she makes the latest threat to leave him. 

But then as ever there is a skewed, dark vibe that runs through The Lone Wolf. Actually it’s darkly humorous. This is typically relayed in the motif I’ve noted before: that Wulff is so crazy that he affects the reality of anyone he encounters. Another recurring theme is characters being unable to believe what is happening to them, particularly when they are dying as a result of Wulff. It almost gives the impression that Wulff isn’t just a lone wolf vigilante, but also a sort of cosmic presence. Malzberg also injects his dark comedy into unexpected moments, like when the heroin-snatching thugs Paul and Mac, apropos of nothing, start speeding at 80 miles an hour down some road, even though they’re criminals with loaded guns, and they get in a car wreck when the cops give chase – and the car’s life passes before its eyes: 

Paul and Mac crash because they panic and fire at the cops while speeding along a darkened road. In other words, they lose control. Malzberg plays up this theme later in the book, when Wulff himself gets in a car chase, one even more tension-wracking than Paul and Mac’s…but Wulff never loses control. In fact, he becomes a stone-cold badass, “the Wolf,” and he pulls off one hell of a crazy feat. Basically he heists the heroin case from the cops, who have acquired it via unexpected plot developments. In what would have been considered one of the highlights of ‘70s crime fiction if it had appeared in a mainstream publication instead of under-the-radar series fiction, Wulff heads off an entourage of police cars that’s transporting the junk to headquarters. Taking advantage of the thick downtown Boston traffic, Wulff grabs the heroin and drives on sidewalks and oncoming traffic as he evades his pursuers, all of whom are shooting at him. He does crash a few cars, but doesn’t kill any cops, something he can’t bring himself to do (yet!). It’s a crazy sequence and the definite highlight of Boston Avenger. 

Meanwhile mob boss Cicchini has his own subplot. He’s run his territory to perfection over the decades…all as a result of his ironclad self-control. Control which, per the novel’s theme, begins to slip now that Wulff is in town. There are periodic bits where Cicchini consciously struggles to regain his control, pushed to the maddened brink by current developments. But Malzberg has a gift for unexpected plot development; Cicchini causes a lot of his own misfortune when he sends his boys to collect Wulff – another moment where our hero is caught completely unawares and could easily be killed, if not for the contrivances of the plot – and makes Wulff an offer. For reasons Malzberg never makes clear, Cicchini doesn’t want to approach Sands himself – the Harvard professor who has gained control of the case – and thus hires Wulff for the job, even giving him a souped-up car. This is the car Wulff uses in his thrilling heist sequence, which also happens to be the moment in the novel where Wulff again becomes “the Wolf” and regains his mojo. 

Malzberg also gives what seems to be a capoff on the mystery which was introduced in the first volume: what happened to Wulff’s fiance, who died of an OD. Wulff’s certain the Mafia killed her, but Cicchini swears up and down that the Mafia had nothing to do with it; he himself has personally researched the case. As ever though, Wulff clams up and won’t hear any talk about his dead woman. Later in the book he reflects to himself that maybe Cicchini was right. Originally I thought we’d have a twist reveal that Wulff killed her, but we’ll see; it’s possible Malzberg will just drop the entire mystery angle and leave it as what it is: Wulff’s a psychotic bastard in a one-man war against the Mafia. 

And once again Wulff does most of his fighting with a .38 revolver, though he’s still carrying around the “machine gun” he picked up in the previous book. Malzberg’s yet to tell us what kind of machine gun it even is, though this time he informs us it’s similar to the BAR Wulff used in ‘Nam. Action isn’t as frequent in Boston Avenger, though. This is not to say the novel is boring. The characterization is gripping, as is the thematic work, and it builds to a thrilling climax as Wulff regains control of the case and squares things up with the Boston mob. Malzberg also delivers a climactic gunfight, one which again dispenses with realism; it features Wulff blasting away at Cicchini and his enforcers in an apartment, and the cops never show up despite what would have to be an incredible din. Even here though Malzberg imbues the scene with the sureal edge that has become customary of the series: 

Per his 1990 essay, Malzberg was aware from the beginning that Wulff was nuts; for that matter, Malzberg saw that Mack Bolan was nuts, too. This psychosis becomes increasingly evident; the finale features Wulff beating to hamburger one of the one-off characters, but realizing that “there is no retaliation” against the underworld. For, once Wulff has dispensed justice, his mobster and drug-dealing prey are reduced to “only victims,” and Wulff realizes here that he can never fully achieve vengeance. Also, he realizes that if you were to kill one Cicchini, at least three more would immediately take his place. This creates a sort of fatalism in Wulff, or perhaps I should say it furthers Wulff’s fatalism, for again he thinks of himself as a “dead man.” And it is with this fatalism that we leave him with; that is, after a climax that’s reminsicent of the last scene in the first Dirty Harry film, only with a case of heroin replacing a police badge. 

Unlike the previous two, this installment doesn’t end with a setup for the next volume. Per Malzberg’s essay, he came to a temporary halt at this point in the series, which he felt caused him to lose a little headway. But given the speed with which he wrote these books, they almost come off like one very long novel. Also in the essay Malzberg states that he hasn’t seen any money from the series since the late ‘70s; the essay was published in 1990, and I haven’t seen any indication that The Lone Wolf has since been reprinted. What would be cool is if some enterprising modern publisher were to acquire the rights and reprint the entire 14-volume series as one massive omnibus, so that it could be read as a single novel. Plus of course a new intro from Malzberg; it would be nice to see what he thinks of the series now, given that even in the 1990 essay he already felt far removed from it.